


Desolation

by theStarfly



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Also kind of Fluff, Dark!Credence, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Loss of Identity, M/M, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Unconditional Love, also sort of, healthy relationship, i don't think the end of the movie is what it seems, is all, not angst, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:30:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theStarfly/pseuds/theStarfly
Summary: After the aurors blast away his hate, Credence is glad to have Newt to lean on as he discovers what it means to live without it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how this happened other than I saw this movie twice today (second time in IMAX 3D... it's worth it) and had to pee like nobody's business because of all the movie-theatre soda, and somehow wrote this out like it had a mind of its own while sitting on the toilet. Who knew. I guess that's just the kind of trash I am XD
> 
> ... sorry if that's TMI. But it was a little bit unexpected. Inspiration comes in weird places, man.
> 
> Anywho, have a short drabble of Credence being sad but also knowing that Newt will be there for him no matter what.

There are days when he can feel the absence like an open, voided wound, aching with the loss of what kept him alive for so very many years, kept him from losing himself entirely at the hands of a woman he had foolishly called his mother. On those days, the suitcase is his only solace; far into the depths of endless winter where he huddles, cold, beside what is left of a little girl he never knew.

Her anger, her rage, her sorrow- he feels the loss of his own as the deepest ache of empty space, and it leaves him with hands clenched in a deep rage he can now only feel at the tips of his fingers and locked solid in his throat, choking any words of explanation and leaving only hoarse screams in its wake. He does not scream, learned to bite his tongue so early he’s not sure he even could, but all it leaves behind is the trembling, pulsing silence of anger let free only by action he is unwilling to take on those he loves.

On those days, Newt leaves him to himself— he knows the signs of silence in fearful, angry beasts, allows him trust like none other he’s experienced, the trust of the care of his creatures, their creatures, and even in the depths of lost rage, Credence does not want to let this man down. It’s a trust given freely, yet one that Credence knows he has yet to truly earn. Even in his desperation, he wants to earn that trust more than anything else.

So, alone with his hatred at his lack thereof, he feeds them all, one by one, meticulously taking count and keeping his touch featherlight, before locking himself in the landscape straight from his own mind, desolate and cold. His own anger is gone but from the tinted shadow lurking under strong nails and deep in his throat, and her body, too, is gone but for the bubble of unadulterated rage. He watches it battle the confines of its safety, knowing it would dissipate into nothing if freed, but all the same he wishes his own were there to mirror it more than the mere sliver in shadows deep within himself echoing its movements, caged.

He wants to hurt other people for what they’ve done to him. He wants to feel the power coursing through him, wants to be that rage once more. But all he can conjure is a slight clench of fists, and it makes him want to cry as he hasn’t since he killed that woman and truly realized how helpless he felt in the face of so much power. And now, with the power gone, all he can do is helplessly wish to be so helpless again.

  


When he returns from those days, unaware of the time or the date, Newt welcomes him back without question each time, hovering, but no more than his usual amount of concern for anyone he considers one of his own, no more than his usual love and hope for nothing more than Credence’s happiness... Credence lets himself be pulled into a tight embrace by this smaller man, lets himself feel helpless in a way that is always surprisingly comfortable. He doesn't question it, just acknowledges that he loves this man more than words.

He and Newt may not be broken in the same way, but the man always seems to know when enough is too much, and when too much is just right. Credence’s sharp edges match perfectly with Newt’s, rough-smoothed as they are, and sinking into safety, he is glad for the void. Newt seems intent on entirely filling it, and that will be fine until, someday, Credence hopes he may no longer feel the absence. He hopes he may finally be able to return with his whole being what Newt gives freely with no expectation of anything in return.

He’ll never want to hurt this man, he knows. Not as he wants and aches to hurt so many others who do nothing but stand by as people take and take, and those who take even more. Newt deserves better than what Credence has to give, but he’ll be damned if he won’t give his all and hope it’s enough that no one will ever be able to take his beautiful, strange beast-hearted giver from him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I am, apparently, Credence/Newt trash in less than 1 hour after I watched the movie for the first time. Please, join me in the trash bin. I beg of you. 
> 
> Feel free to trash-compile in the comments. No, really. Please. I need to talk about ALL the things with this ship.


End file.
